Just Two Backstreet Girls
by Rumpleteazer10
Summary: A 'behind the scenes' look at the life and loves of Eva Peron, told from the perspective of a female Che.
1. Prologue

I do not own any of the characters from the musical, nor do I claim to, however the characterisation of Che is my own, hence the character is female here although played by men in the film and musical.

Nor do I claim that this work reflects on the life or thoughts of Eva Peron or any other historical figures. It's fiction, not fact. That said, I will try to be as historically accurate as possible in regards to dates.

Also, please don't leave comments criticising the nature of this piece. If you're homophobic, please leave now.

* * *

**Prologue**

Buenos Aires, 26th July 1952 – a city in mourning. Over none other than some common girl, admittedly a talented one but...oh Jesus, is this really necessary? Ok, yes, she's gone. She's dead. The wonderful Eva Peron, Argentina's first lady, is dead. I know already! We all know. Do we all need to shriek and moan because she's no longer here?

By all rights, it should be me in tears after all. But I'm not. I was at her side at the very end, as well as the very start of this – her greatest adventure yet. And to think, I only ever thought that we'd be in Buenos Aires a month, then go back home to her family. But no. More like sixteen years here, and yet, far longer since we met.

And yet, I can't cry. I was at her side when she died...overheard the announcements of her death...and neither time did I cry.

Why?

Well, my dear friends, for that, we must go back to the very beginning. To that first day of April when I met her, when she was simply Eva Duarte, the fifteen year old illegitimate daughter of Juan Duarte and Juana Ibarguren back in Junin, all those years ago...


	2. Chapter 1

I do not own any of the characters from the musical, nor do I claim to, however the characterisation of Che is my own, hence the character is female here although played by men in the film and musical.

Nor do I claim that this work reflects on the life or thoughts of Eva Peron or any other historical figures. It's fiction, not fact. That said, I will try to be as historically accurate as possible in regards to dates.

Also, please don't leave comments criticising the nature of this piece. If you're homophobic, please leave now.

* * *

**Chapter 1**

I was only 16 years old when I arrived in Junin, looking for work somewhere in the village after my 'dear' brother, five years my senior, had taken it upon himself to throw me out of the family home, bellowing that it was time that

"_You can stop scrounging off everybody around, and earn y' own way, girl. It's a tough life – it's time you learnt that."_

Isn't it delightful to know that one has such a caring family?

I'd worked myself harder than he ever had in the years since our parents' death when I'd been left on his doorstep, only allowed my bed and board after much pleading from his wife. But those five years of manual labour on the family's farm had served me well enough. While I didn't necessarily have the looks to enchant a husband – let's face it, I will never be the buxom wavy haired starlet in the movies – with my family's poker straight black hair which was always back in some messy style. Nor, as was regularly pointed out to me, the temperament, I had at least learned the skills that any young man my age would have acquired and the strength to match.

It was with this knowledge that I had made my journey here, thinking that if nothing else, I could probably find someone who'd take pity on me and give me a place to sleep that night. After two hours walking to the nearest train station with my bundle, then being squashed into a carriage with god knows how many others until we reached our destination, I believe it's fair to say that I was perhaps not in the highest spirits upon reaching the dusty outskirts of the town. That said, at least the locals didn't seem to take an instant dislike to me, despite the confusion over my mannish work attire – after all, when you're throw out of a home, it's the not the easiest thing to do to ask "Excuse me, may I come back in and get changed first?"

Thankfully, one elderly woman had pointed me in the direction of Juana Ibarguren and her family. Within half an hour, and with many suggestions of how I'd make a lovely young lady for her middle son, she had agreed to give me the attic bedroom in return for my help around the house and on the land where they grew their crops. Not wishing her to change her mind, I'd gone straight out to work as soon as I'd dumped my bag up on my bed without waiting around to meet the rest of the family.

It was dark when I finally did return, kicking my boots off just outside the house and carrying them in my spare hand to the cries from Juana that dinner would be served to the entire family in 10 minutes.

I made my way upstairs, hearing another cry from my hostess to her children, as I let myself into my bedroom...and then found myself missing the rest of what she said.

That was when I first saw her. A beautiful dark haired slender thing around my age, pouting and settled on my bed, her legs tucked up underneath herself. Her black lashed eyes studied me, almost calculating the worth of me for the best part of a minute while I just stood there, staring at her like some idiot.

"I thought you'd be a boy" She broke the silence, no annoyance to her voice, but a curiosity at least was there. Not my kind of curiosity for her but...still...a small amount of interest never the less. She kicked her legs off the bed and, with a final look over me, flounced out of the attic, no doubt to answer the cries of her mother.


	3. Chapter 2

I do not own any of the characters from the musical, nor do I claim to, however the characterisation of Che is my own, hence the character is female here although played by men in the film and musical.

Nor do I claim that this work reflects on the life or thoughts of Eva Peron or any other historical figures. It's fiction, not fact. That said, I will try to be as historically accurate as possible in regards to dates.

Also, please don't leave comments criticising the nature of this piece. If you're homophobic, please leave now.

* * *

**Chapter 2**

That brief encounter on my first day seemed to form the pattern of our exchanges over the next few weeks. Each day, I'd go out to work either on the land or do odd jobs around their home – sometimes even being called over to nearby houses to help them – then I'd return home, eat with the family then sit with them in their living room, chatting to Juana mostly. She would try to find excuses to leave me alone with her son, sending us to clear up the kitchen together or fetch in logs for the fire, unknowing that it was her daughter who had captured my interest.

Don't get me wrong, the brother, Erik, and indeed, all the Duartes, were a pleasure to be around, and none objected to the fact that I refused to wear a skirt or dress, even on Sundays when we would attend the village church. Sometimes Eva would talk to me, but never would she seek me out. It would never be anything more than a swift knock on my door to check I was awake, or a brief appearance in the yard to check up on me. Only Erik would find his excuses to try and get me alone, or insist on walking me home at night.

That's why it was such a shock to me when she **did **show an interest in being near me. We were seated in living room, myself and the family that is, and Eva had once again been arguing that she wanted to go and see some singer who would be performing at the village hall. It was only when her mother, for the fifth time that day, reminded her that there was nobody to escort her when Eva piped up

"Che can come with me, right? Most people think she's a boy anyway, Mama"

I blinked, looking up from the card game I had been playing with her brother. Had I really heard right? Did she really just say she wanted me to...

"Come on, Mama, please?"

"And why would Cheyanna want to go? It's her night off – it's unfair for you to even suggest..."

"She'd love it! She can dance – I wouldn't even need a male partner. Please Mama?"

I just nodded, still not fully paying attention to what was going on, blushing when Eva's face lit up in response, before she started avidly discussing what she was going to wear with her mother

I was sure that it was more that she wanted to see some man in the village but still, the fact that I was taking her and that **she** had asked for **me** to go was enough to keep a smile on my face for the rest of the week. Even when, on the night, she took forever getting herself ready and then proceeded to laugh at me in one of her brothers' suits, teasing me that I looked just like a young man, I couldn't shift the feeling that she had at least decided to go with me rather than someone else.

I was even more surprised when, once we had reached the hall and the dancing had started, she kept to her word and got up to dance with me. She even managed to keep the conversation pleasant, talking mostly about the singer admittedly, but also about herself. I just listened, letting her talk and enjoying the feeling of being near her as we waltzed around the floor. The torture of knowing that she'd never want me as I wanted her was worth it...after all, there was nothing to stop me looking at her or laughing at her jokes or dancing with her, was there? Nobody would guess how I felt...nobody would kno...

"Are you even listening to me?"

"What?"

"I knew it. You're eyeing up someone, aren't you!"

"What? No!"

That cheeky, teasing grin once again spread over her lips as she cocked her head, studying me then glancing around the room, avidly searching for a target.

"Come on, who is it?"

"No one!"

"It must be someone! Now who?"

When I gave her no answer, she continued to name all the men in the room before a smirk passed over her lips, almost bursting out laughing as she added.

"But then...you don't like men, do you, Che?"

"Wha...?"

My cheeks flared at that and I hurriedly looked away. After all, no one bar myself knew that...could ever know...after all, men were being arrested or worse for being like _that_. And no girls were like that...

My thoughts were dragged back to her, as Eva pressed myself in against her, her grin widening more than ever as she enjoyed teasing me.

"You don't want a man, do you, Che?"

She paused for a moment, looking pleased with herself as she purred just inches from my face.

"You want me"


	4. Chapter 3

I do not own any of the characters from the musical, nor do I claim to, however the characterisation of Che is my own, hence the character is female here although played by men in the film and musical.

Nor do I claim that this work reflects on the life or thoughts of Eva Peron or any other historical figures. It's fiction, not fact. That said, I will try to be as historically accurate as possible in regards to dates.

Also, please don't leave comments criticising the nature of this piece. If you're homophobic, please leave now.

* * *

**Chapter 3**

She keep her dark eyes on mine, grinning as she waited for my reaction to her words, continuing to press herself up against me. I swallowed, dropping my hands the second the song ended, walking away outside before she had a chance to stop me – I swear I could hear her laughing at me.

A few tears ran down my cheeks...that girl...she knew exactly what say to make it hurt. After all, who wouldn't laugh at the likes of me? The only queer girl in Argentina, in love with someone like that. I could kick myself. Why on earth would I ever let myself dream of having her, let alone kid myself that it could happen? Eva of all people. Not a day goes past without her mooning over some new man. I'd never even get a...

My thoughts are interrupted by the sound of hurried footsteps behind me. I swallow again, trying to blink back the rest of my tears just incase.

"Che!"

I ignore her, upping my pace in the hope she'll just leave me be.

"Che, please!"

She doesn't. She runs to catch me up, grabbing my hand in the darkness and forcing me to stop.

"I'm sorry, okay?"

"For what?"

"For teasing you. It wasn't fair, okay?"

"Just leave it."

I swallow again, not trusting myself to even look at the beautiful girl beside me, sensing her frowning before she surprises me, gently touching her fingers to me cheeks. She uses her thumb to brush away my tears, before making me look at her, her voice now a low whisper.

"Don't cry, Che..."

"I wasn't."

"Were. You're cheek's damp – don't lie."

"What does it matter?"

It's her turn to swallow. She takes a long moment, before that thumb trails it's way to my lips, stroking them in the moonlight as she studies my features, taking me seriously for once.

"You really do like me, don't you?"

"Like I said...doesn't matter."

"Would it if I liked you too?"

I frown at her, stunned by her words and feeling her thumb tracing over my lips again, seeing a nervousness in her eyes that's never been her before. This confident little flirt, suddenly nervous about flirting with me?

"I mean...you're pretty much a boy, right? You look like a boy...it...it wouldn't be weird if I liked you..."

"What...?"

She draws closer, silencing me as her lips come to press against mine, her hands drawing my arms possessively around her waist before her own loop around my neck, pressing tightly against me as we kiss in the darkness.


	5. Chapter 4

I do not own any of the characters from the musical, nor do I claim to, however the characterisation of Che is my own, hence the character is female here although played by men in the film and musical.

Nor do I claim that this work reflects on the life or thoughts of Eva Peron or any other historical figures. It's fiction, not fact. That said, I will try to be as historically accurate as possible in regards to dates.

Also, please don't leave comments criticising the nature of this piece. If you're homophobic, please leave now.

* * *

**Chapter 4**

The rest of her family were either asleep or out when we reached the house, Eva taking my hand and leading me upstairs into the previously unencountered territory of her bedroom. Surprisingly, it was barely bigger than my own though more comfortably furnished with her personal things, a large mirror, the days clothes still abandoned over the floor, the curtains open giving us the soft glow of the moonlight to see by.

She shut the door behind us, kicking off her heels before coming back to me where I was just inside the bedroom door. One hand gently slid up my chest, seeming to study the slight curving of my breasts beneath before her eyes flicked onto mine, thinking and again studying me in the darkness before she spoke again.

"You're a boy..."

"I..."

"You look like a boy...even with those... a...a very beautiful boy..."

Her hand had moved up to my cheek, guiding my lips down and onto hers again. As before, I felt myself melt under the contact from this cheeky angel of a woman. When she kept kissing, I slid my arms around her, drawing her closer to me, the kisses gaining passion as they continued but remaining tender, intimate. Ours.

She moved back to the bed, pulling me down on top of her and undressing us both except for my shirt, then pausing, looking me in the eyes

"Che...you're a boy...just...a boy who won't get me pregnant...right? Say it...say you're a boy..."

"I don't under'..."

"Just say it...please?"

"I...I'm a boy..."

Her smile spread as she heard it, the words evidently okaying her lying naked beneath me in her mind. Her lips pressed back to mine as she took my hand and guided it down, before both arms wrapped back around my back.

She didn't seem to care when it was my fingers that curled up inside her, that made the soft whispered moans of pleasure escape into my mouth as her hips bucked against mine, her thigh nudging me slowly to my own release as I slid within her in time to her little bucks, letting my thumb brush her bud. Her stifled moans joined mine in the darkness, her body gripping tightly around the three fingers buried within her.

When she grew still, she looked up at me, seeming to properly see me for the first time. One hand moved, undoing my hair from it's ponytail and brushing through it

"I think...you were better...it's meant to hurt the first time..." came a soft tentative whisper, letting me see that rare flicker of her shyness. "Beautiful Che...my boy..."


	6. Chapter 5

I do not own any of the characters from the musical, nor do I claim to, however the characterisation of Che is my own, hence the character is female here although played by men in the film and musical.

Nor do I claim that this work reflects on the life or thoughts of Eva Peron or any other historical figures. It's fiction, not fact. That said, I will try to be as historically accurate as possible in regards to dates.

Also, please don't leave comments criticising the nature of this piece. If you're homophobic, please leave now.

* * *

**Chapter 5**

She was still tucked up in my arms when I woke the next morning, the kohl she'd used to line her eyes the night before slightly smudged from sleep, the red from her lips kissed away during our love making.

Even now, I don't think I've seen a more beautiful sight than that little nymph lying fast asleep against my chest, our dark hair mingled together on her pillows. It didn't matter that it was raining outside, or that the bed we two shared was ideally only meant for her, or even that I guessed she'd push me away from her when she woke, perhaps blame the drink she hadn't had, claim I'd seduced her. I didn't even care that she'd insisted on calling me a boy, not when it was 'her boy'. To feel those soft, sweet lips on mine again was worth it...and she was right, after all.

Aside from my hair, I did look like just another young man in the village after all. But then...if that's what she'd wanted, why touch me too? If I'd just been, as she'd put it, sex with a man would couldn't get her pregnant, then why had she cared for how it felt for me? Why too undo my hair and remove my shirt – why show herself reminders that it was a woman she'd just made love to? It was true, I was more muscle than anything and had never had curves anything like hers...but she'd drawn attention to those she could find, touched and kissed them as she'd lain against me. Nothing said. Was I meant to ask?

"You're staring...

"Mmm?"

Those lively black eyes had opened now, looking up into mine with a slowly forming smirk as she'd caught me off guard, but she didn't pull away. Instead, there was a little wriggling to bring herself up level to me before her lips pressed mine again, her bare limbs staying entwined with mine as we lay there, the passion and urgency gone from the previous night and instead replaced with a slower intimacy.

One of her hands moved up and brushed a stray lock of hair off my face, the cockerel out in the courtyard starting his early morning crow to wake us.

"How many women have you...done that with? 

"Before you?"

She nodded, not teasing me now though her eyes were curious.

"None..."

"Then...then how did you know you could? I've never heard of two women before..."

"Because if two men can, why can't women?"

Eva propped herself up a bit, her familiar grin playing on her lips as she digested my answer and studied me.

"And you've always liked women?"

"Always..."

"But you like me best?"

Now it was my turn to smile at her, that beautiful vain little creature fluttering her eyelashes at me so I'd give the answer she wanted, not that the effort was needed. I'd have said the same thing whether or not she'd encouraged me.

"Yes, Eva...I like you best"

"As you should!"

She giggled, those lips pressing mine again and parting them, exploring my mouth, my tongue with her own and letting me do the same with hers. I held her closer, gently cuddling her against me, savouring these last few moments as I heard the house waking around us, blocking it out for now and just focusing on the angel in my arms.

Her woman, her boy. What did it matter after all?


	7. Chapter 6

I do not own any of the characters from the musical, nor do I claim to, however the characterisation of Che is my own, hence the character is female here although played by men in the film and musical.

Nor do I claim that this work reflects on the life or thoughts of Eva Peron or any other historical figures. It's fiction, not fact. That said, I will try to be as historically accurate as possible in regards to dates.

Also, please don't leave comments criticising the nature of this piece. If you're homophobic, please leave now.

* * *

**Chapter 6**

The passing weeks followed a simple, and to me a blissful pattern. I'd wake with Eva curled up in my arms, normally in my bed rather than hers so that her mother and siblings were less likely to see or hear us together. She'd slip out and down to her own room when she wouldn't be seen, I'd work, come home, we'd all eat together, then go up to bed early.

She grew less and less shy around me, seeming to accept our relationship the more we were together. I could hardly believe it when one evening, she came up with the field I'd been working in, and took me hand to walk home with me. That said, nobody really commented – those who hadn't heard me speak, just heard me referred to as 'Che' or Duartes' lodger, seemed to just assume we were a normal young couple, courting.

Harder was explaining the situation to Eva's family. Her mother would have done anything for Eva, and indeed, she seemed relieved that her daughter was at least unlikely to produce a child outside of marriage if she was with me. Her sisters refused to even look on me, whispering snide comments as I moved my clothes down to Eva's bedroom, but it didn't bother me. I was with the girl of my dreams, and that was all that mattered.

We were lying together one night in the spring of 1934, my fingers still resting within her as we kissed in the darkness, when she first said the words I'd waited so long to hear.

"Che?"

"Mmm?"

"I love you...even though it's odd..."

I looked into those deep brown pools, taking in her words to make sure she was serious, before I whispered them back to her. A perfect smile spread over her lips, not the cheeky, flirtatious youngster she had been, but that of the sweet, loving young woman she was becoming. She kissed me, guiding me back on top of her and whispering those words over and over between soft moans as we made love again, gripping my back tightly as if she would never let me go. As if she could never love another.

How I wish that had been so.


	8. Chapter 7

I do not own any of the characters from the musical, nor do I claim to, however the characterisation of Che is my own, hence the character is female here although played by men in the film and musical.

Nor do I claim that this work reflects on the life or thoughts of Eva Peron or any other historical figures. It's fiction, not fact. That said, I will try to be as historically accurate as possible in regards to dates.

Also, please don't leave comments criticising the nature of this piece. If you're homophobic, please leave now.

* * *

**Chapter 7**

He arrived one night in early April, some tango singer from Buenos Aires with no real name or reputation. That said, being from the 'Big Apple' made him a kind of celebrity it the village, and as such, it was arranged that rather than stay in the cramped guest house, he would spend his fortnight staying with the Duartes in the attic I had once occupied.

Even before he'd arrived, Eva was flapping about excitedly, helping her mother prepare his bedroom with clean linen and fresh flowers, the entire room having to be scrubbed down so it was fit for him.

She babbled away to me when she came to visit me in the fields, bringing lunch so we could sit together during my break. While I ate, she filled the air with her talk of how she couldn't believe she'd get to meet such a famous man, let alone have him stay with us, and then also how he could get her a break in Buenos Aires when he'd seen her dancing because of course, didn't I know already that was where she belonged? I gained a playful slap from her when I chuckled at the idea of her on a stage before she flopped back against my chest, folding my arms protectively around her.

"I could do it, Che, you know I could."

"Yes, darling..."

"And you'd support me, of course. You'd have to come. Anyway, you'd learn to love the city as much as I do after a while. It'd be amazing – me singing and dancing and famous, you...well...we'd find something for you. Not with that voice though, you need a sweet and high voice to get anywhere singing, everyone knows that. Sexy deep voices only work for men"

"You're nearly insulting me here..."

"Oh shush, no I'm not. You know what I mean and anyway..."

She took one of my hands, sliding it inside her dress then under her bra so I was holding her breast, before giving me the cheekiest smile she could manage.

"How could you ever be angry with me when I give you everything you want? If you insulted, you wouldn't look so pleased with yourself right now."

We both laughed at that, our lips finding each others and my thumb gently teased her nipple as I felt her kissing gaining more want, before drawing it away as I heard the men coming back to start work again. An insulted, disappointed pout passed over her face, and she glared up at me.

"I thought you loved me!"

"I do...Eva, what's wrong? What have I done?"

"If you love me, you should have kept doing that. I liked it. You shouldn't stop doing things I like."

"But not with people watching us, Eva..."

"Why? Am I not worth the attention?"

"Yes, but..."

She had already sprung to her feet, going to stomp away from me in one of her tantrums, when she stopped. When she turned back, I saw she was forming an idea already, though I hadn't a clue what. She held out a hand for me when I scrambled to my feet, slinking her fingers back through mine and starting to walk with me across the field, pulling me with her back down towards the village.

I didn't argue, just shrugged helplessly at a confused look on one of the other men's faces and saw him smirk before telling one of his friends that 'that young boy's got lucky at last'.

Eva took me to our room, our bed, whispering to me once we were naked and I'd just lain on top of her.

"What if..."

"What if...?"

"Well...he's going to need persuasion to take both of us to Buenos Aires and set us up...maybe...'special' persuasion..."

I swallowed back the bile at her words, looking down at her and praying she was joking. But no. Her face was set, determined, and when she was like this, woe betide anyone who argued with her. She wouldn't change her mind for the world.

"You...you'd sleep with him...

"Not exactly, although...well...if it was a one off and got us paradise, why not? But no, not that. I want to sleep with you"

I frowned, and Eva gently stroked my hair, seeming to savour my confusion and the hurt note that had been in my voice before she answered further. Her voice formed the soft, silky, persuasive tone she normally only used when she wanted me to focus solely on pleasing her, knowing I could rarely make myself say no.

"Just...what harm is there in letting him watch? He'd enjoy himself, we'd enjoy ourselves. He sees something unique, we get freedom, money and a lifetime together in our own apartment...we'd never have to be apart...do this little thing for me, and I'll be your wife...I'll never look at another man, I swear...just do that for me."


	9. Chapter 8

I do not own any of the characters from the musical, nor do I claim to, however the characterisation of Che is my own, hence the character is female here although played by men in the film and musical.

Nor do I claim that this work reflects on the life or thoughts of Eva Peron or any other historical figures. It's fiction, not fact. That said, I will try to be as historically accurate as possible in regards to dates.

Also, please don't leave comments criticising the nature of this piece. If you're homophobic, please leave now.

* * *

**Chapter 8**

Eva even made me go and collect him, more I believe so he would definitely have to hear me speak than for anything else, and I made myself be civil. For her. The man was more than double my age, very fond of the sound of his own voice by all accounts, not attractive but I could see how a normal woman could like that rasp to his voice. He made comments on my shirt, which I deflected by quickly adding that I was a labourer and it was more practical, and he at least agreed upon. Bar his attitude, I confess that perhaps in different circumstances, we may have got along. A puffed up ego is easier to ignore than rudeness, and a lot easier that watching your lover simper over another.

True to form, she could barely leave him alone, hanging on his every word and making sure that it was her who went up and settled him into his room, staying with him until dinner at which we quickly ate before Magaldi disappeared to the village hall for a rehearsal and I moved upstairs to help Eva into her dress. My hands paused on her skin, noting a dark love bite on her shoulder, my chest going tight.

"What's this?"

"Probably you...I'm in love with a vampire..."

"It's not mine. I don't bite you. Not ever."

"Then explain the little marks on my breasts after you've been at them"

"Kisses, Eva...not like this..."

"Oh, then it was probably Augustin, wasn't it? He's a fiery man...well...in his way. He wants me. Really wants me."

Her voice was smug, triumphant as she spoke. I couldn't move my eyes off the mark...from his lips. Had she...well..she'd mentioned she might, but really?

"Stop glaring at me! I didn't fuck him, Che. But he's coming to bed with us tonight for a bit...should have seen his face at the idea of two women, bless, he's never seen it before. We'll be educating him."

"Eva..."

"And you're always wanting me at night anyway...no different, except this gets us to Buenos Aires. Simple. Don't argue, hmm?"

She moves from me, pulling on her new dress and getting me to do it up, before turning and looking up at me, her hands cupping my breasts through my shirt as she meets my gaze with a look that both pleads and insists I don't argue. And I don't.

I don't argue when her lips meet mine, or when we go down to the village hall. He serenades my Eva and I take ever ounce of strength to keep my expression neutral, reminding myself it's one night – one night – and we're free.

He walks home with us, Eva hanging off his arm and babbling away to him, making him tell her all about life in the big city. He obliges, though even then I could tell he was probably exaggerating the truth. No place is perfect, and there isn't a place on earth where people will throw money at your feet just for you being, but my Eva lapped it up, fluttering those dark eyes up at him as she hung on his every word.

His eyes wandered over both of us when we went up to bed. Her lips were on mine as usual the minute we were through the door, and I could taste the glass of wine she'd had during his singing, mingling with the usual soft, sweet taste of my lover, and I relented. Eva had won – I'd play her game for her, just this once.

Her hands undressed me, savouring the task as I rid her of the dress and her under things. Magaldi arrived just as we had moved to the bed, letting himself in. I didn't look at him, instead reading in Eva's face that he was evidently amazed by what was in front of him, her smug, self satisfied smirk in his direction her favourite for when she knew she had got one over on someone.

I ignored him, my lips on hers then trailed down her body, fluttering over each breast and savouring the familiar little mewls when I suckled at her nipples, feeling first one and then the other stiffening under my mouth. I couldn't help but smirk as I heard the mewling turned to her begs for more, pushing at my shoulders. I made her wait before kissing down between her legs, hearing the sound of a man's zipper being undone across the room.

Again, I made myself ignore it, captivated as always by the soft, beautiful moans that began to escape her lips as my tongue traced intricate patterns over her bud, her fingers finding their way into my long hair, pulling it from it's ponytail and holding my mouth in place, my own hands resting against her delicate hips.

I was vaguely aware of a soft, wet sound across the room, but compared to her, nothing mattered. I let one hand move down, pleasuring myself as my tongue worked on my lover, stopping when I felt her close before kissing back up her body. A cheeky grin spread over my face as I reached her lips, chuckling when I saw her flushed and furious that I hadn't finished.

"You bitch!"

"Thought I was a boy..."

"You're an asshole, that's what you are! A complete and u'..."

My turn to win the argument for once. I pressed my lips firmly to hers, reaching down and parting our folds as I lowered my hips onto hers, my bud and entrance covering and pressing down against hers as I wrapped my arms around her. I thrust against her, our moans mingling together as we kissed, the intense sensation of ours bodies together sending both of us over the edge, leaving Eva panting and shaking in my arms.

Her legs had worked their way up around my hips, her hands still in my hair as we kissed. When a loud male grunt sounded in the background, neither of us seemed to hear it, Eva too busy kissing me and stroking my hair. She'd forgotten Magaldi that easily, I almost pitied the man.

When our lips parted, she had a dreamy smile on her lips and nuzzled into my shoulder. I heard him rise and glanced over. Our eyes locked, and I held that gaze as I pressed my lips over the mark he'd made earlier on Eva, covering it with one of my own, enticing a sleepy giggle from my girl.

He swallowed, running his eyes over me with some unrecognisable expression, before inclining his head to me. I glared back at him.

"Get out."

He complied, leaving us alone. When I looked back at Eva, she was fast asleep, still curled around me. Well...at least for now, I had won and she hadn't lied. Watching I could cope with, but if he had touched her, he'd have limped out of the room. Minus his 'little Magaldi'.


	10. Chapter 9

I do not own any of the characters from the musical, nor do I claim to, however the characterisation of Che is my own, hence the character is female here although played by men in the film and musical.

Nor do I claim that this work reflects on the life or thoughts of Eva Peron or any other historical figures. It's fiction, not fact. That said, I will try to be as historically accurate as possible in regards to dates.

Also, please don't leave comments criticising the nature of this piece. If you're homophobic, please leave now.

* * *

**Chapter 9**

The next day, a Sunday, passed as usual. Eva woke late in my arms, we made love slowly in the new way I'd discovered with her the night before, before dressing and eating. She left with the rest of the family for church and a family do with one of her older siblings, and I stayed home.

I was bringing in the wood I'd been chopping outside, arranging some in the baskets in the kitchen ready for the day's fires when I felt him appear. He made a drink, not speaking, though I noticed when I stood up that he'd made one for me as well. I took it up, sipping the cool liquid but didn't thank him, frowning at him as I watched his eyes run over my body.

"How often does she make you do that?"

I shrugged, putting the drink back down and going back to my work. Let him stare at me if he really must.

"I mean...it's obvious to anyone that you love her, Che...but Ada always make you entertain men?"

"Her name. Is Eva"

"Eva...what did she want out of it?"

"Buenos Aires. Setting her up somewhere."

He nodded, getting up. When I glanced back, I caught his eyes on my chest, taking me in. There was a long pause between us as I drew up, nearly his height myself and my growth spurt hadn't quite finished yet. Magaldi sipped at his glass of water, before meeting my eyes an giving in, nodding.

"You would be going?"

"Of course I'd be going"

"I can't promise agents or anything...but do yourself a favour. In the city, you need to have mastered the voice. Men'll beat the life out of you if they see any women, beside whores, having your kind of relationship. The hair you can get around, but you need to **sound** like a man. It's the only way you'll both survive."

I frowned more. That was hardly the response I'd expected, and I certainly hadn't expected his advice on top of that. We both moved back to the table, now talking seriously, almost as if this man hadn't watched me make love the previous night.

"Are we common?"

"No. Whores will touch each other and kiss for the money, but like you two? No. One or two in the acting circles and even then, they'll hide it whenever they can. And then...there's not what you two have."

"Oh?"

"You two are real...and it's rare that anything like that catches my eye"

"So why watch?"

"You're a beauty, that's why...and for that, I can get you a few weeks at most in a bedsit. Best I can offer, and it's for you, not her. I don't pay whores"

He left, leaving me stunned at his words. For...me? Had he really said that I was...? Eva herself had only said it in relation to the word 'boy', and normally then only in bed. More over, there was the wave of reassurance at his reaction to us. The reminder I needed that my Eva really did love me, that she couldn't forget me like she'd forgotten him.


	11. Chapter 10

I do not own any of the characters from the musical, nor do I claim to, however the characterisation of Che is my own, hence the character is female here although played by men in the film and musical.

Nor do I claim that this work reflects on the life or thoughts of Eva Peron or any other historical figures. It's fiction, not fact. That said, I will try to be as historically accurate as possible in regards to dates.

Also, please don't leave comments criticising the nature of this piece. If you're homophobic, please leave now.

* * *

**Chapter 10**

The more I think about it, the more his suggestion makes sense, and I find that when I try, it's not really a struggle to lower the pitch of my voice. It almost scares me how much I sound like my brother, though there's still a lightness to my voice that his has always lacked after year of cheap black market cigars. Never the less, as with everything else, I feel it will pass for being a young man's.

It amuses Eva when I use this voice for the first time that evening, though when she asks me why I've decided on it for the city – she seems certain that we **will** be taken there – I neglect to tell her about Magaldi's influence. Such a big part of me doesn't want to remind her of having any ties to him.

She's **mine**, not his. I've already shown him that, but Eva? As much as I hate to admit it, he had a point. Many street whores would pull her tricks for seducing or sleeping with a man to get an advantage...though for a lot of them, sex with your own lover for money is a step to far. But not, it seems, for Eva.

That's why his words can't seem to escape my thoughts, even when I'm in bed with her that night. Her obvious enjoyment and affection isn't enough to chase away the nagging jealousy that it has conjured up.

_How many times has she made you do that?_

Once so far.

_And you'll go with her?_

What made him ask? It makes me wonder if she really would want me to go with her. True, she mentioned wanting to be my wife once we were in Buenos Aires...but was that just her way of getting me to agree? Perhaps I really am just being used by her to further her chances?

"Do you have to look so fucking grumpy?"

Her voice cuts through my thoughts, and I look down into her eyes that have opened and fixed on mine. She looks livid, and in all fairness, can I blame her? I can't imagine many women would like you forgetting they're even in the room when you're meant to be making love to them. I hadn't even noticed that I'd stopped moving for her, hadn't missed the sensation when I was being tormented by visions of her on her back for men in the city.

"Well?"

When I don't answer, I get a sharp slap on my cheek. I flinch away, scowling at her in shock, surprised to have her yelling angrily at me.

"Who?!"

"You hi'..."

"Who, Che? Who were you thinking about? Which little slut are you mooning over?"

"Excuse me?"

"My sister? Someone in the village? Who?!"

I look down into her eyes, her cheeks flushed in a jealous rage now and she slaps me again, before I see angry tears start running down her beautiful face. I move off her, sitting up and in spite of her protests, pull her protectively in against me, even as I feel her feebly beat at my chest with open hands. When the slaps stop, I draw her onto my lap, letting her sobs subside until I feel her body stop shaking in my arms.

I press a kiss against her hair, hating myself for this, for doubting her. I'm a horrible, jealous thing...she doesn't deserve it. She was thinking of our future, of me...nothing more. How could I be so stupid as to consider otherwise?

"There's nobody else, Eva, I promise"

"Then...then why that far away look? You were thinking of someone else..."

"Just a comment someone made earlier getting at me. That's all, I swear."

I brush away the strands of hair that have stuck to her tear stained cheeks, then tilt her head so she looks up at me, the anger having subsided as quickly as it had risen.

"You promise me?"

"I promise you"

She nods slowly, before putting her mouth up to be kissed, which I gladly do. I feel her shuffle on top of me, straddling my hips as her hands come up and cup my cheeks, gently but firmly holding my mouth in place as she kissed me deeply until we have to part for air.

"Magaldi?"

"Mmm?"

"Magaldi. Was it him that said something?

"Yes..."

"What was it?"

"Just...he'll take you to the city...on the condition I look after you..."

Her beautiful face lights up at my words and she kisses me with a renewed fire, wrapping her arms tightly around my neck, and I can't help smiling despite my sore cheek. What was I thinking? Of course she'd never go without me, she loves me. He saw that too.

It still surprises me when her hands move down, resting over my breasts and gently kneading them like I've done so many times for her. I murmur into our kiss, letting her do as she wishes and being rewarded by her continued attention, her thumbs teasing my nipples until they're almost painfully stiff and I'm panting softly like I've heard her do every night. Her head dips to my throat, her thumbs still brushing my nipples as she leaves a twin love bite on my throat, mimicking me the previous night, before purring against my ear.

"You're mine, Che...you are...I'd die without you love...I need you..."

I let out a ragged mumble in response, surprised when instead of coming back to kiss me or pushing my hand down to attend her, she wriggles back and under the covers. The next thing I know, I feel her lips on the inside of my thigh, tracing closer and close to my centre before she pulls back and does the same on the other side until my legs are shaking, Eva pushing the covers off her as she looks up at me. She's lying flat on her stomach, propped up on her elbows just enough that I can see her cleavage clearly. She holds my gaze, her lips moving over and resting millimetres above my bud so her breath teases me too when she speaks.

"Say it...say you're mine..."

"I...I'm yours..."

"Always?"

"Always"

The word has barely escaped my lips before I feel hers wrap around my bud, unable to stop my low moans as she suckles on it, her tongue flicking back and forth on the sensitive tip. It's the first time she's ever truly shown she cares for my enjoyment, but it doesn't register to me at the time that this could simply be a reward for getting her what she wanted. That will come later.

For now, I enjoy her attention, surprised but not objecting when three inexperienced fingers push deeply inside of me, the sharp pain barely registering simply because it's her. Anyone else, this would be unbearable...but with her...it's not long before I feel myself rocking onto them, then cry out her name softly into the night as I clench tightly around her and then collapse back onto the pillows. It's like nothing I've ever felt before, and finally, I know why she's so loud when I do that for her. And now...she's taken only what's hers.

Her fingers slide out of me when I finally stop shaking, and I become aware of blood on them as well as the dull pain where she'd torn through my barrier. She notices and dips her head lower, before I feel her licking inside me softly until the stinging and bleeding has subsided, wiping her fingers on the bed as she comes up and snuggles into my chest. My arms lazily wrap around her as she pulls the duvet back over us both, already feeling myself started to doze off and only catching a few words from her before I'm asleep.

"My Che...completely...you're never leaving me..."


	12. Chapter 11

I do not own any of the characters from the musical, nor do I claim to, however the characterisation of Che is my own, hence the character is female here although played by men in the film and musical.

Nor do I claim that this work reflects on the life or thoughts of Eva Peron or any other historical figures. It's fiction, not fact. That said, I will try to be as historically accurate as possible in regards to dates.

Also, please don't leave comments criticising the nature of this piece. If you're homophobic, please leave now.

* * *

**Chapter 11**

Her contentedness with me only seems to grow over the next few days. My Eva can barely leave me alone, even when Magaldi enters a room, and I find myself feeling happier than I can remember. It doesn't even bother me when Eva insists that we all go to the concert on his last day in Junin, not when she nuzzles up to me the whole time. I risk the glares from her mother and wrap an arm around my lover, kissing her hair and letting the music wash over me. It's some silly serenade or something...nothing of interest when I have her beside me, and she has to remind me to clap when he finally finishes.

I only leave her briefly to deliver a drink, and the Duartes' compliments, to Magaldi in his dressing room. He's smirking when I come in, and I return it with a dour glare, banging his glass on the table.

"Shut up!"

"I didn't say a word, my little man."

"You were thinking it."

"Your girlfriend encourages people to think."

"Meaning?"

Magaldi regards me for a moment, taking the time to sip his whiskey and light a cigarette while I seat myself up on the desk serving as his dressing table. Again, his eyes run over me, before they drift their way back to my face.

"She clearly wants people to look at you both, and she doesn't hide that you're lovers."

"Nobody knows I'm a woman"

"Except her mother...not a fan of yours, that's obvious. Mind you, with the noise you've both been making I can't say I'm surprised – particularly when she's not in my position to enjoy it"

"Neither are you"

He laughs at my sharpness, and his eyes move back to my chest then my lap.

"You certainly give me something to...enjoy"

What do I care for his enjoyment, or for Eva's mother for that matter? All that matters us – that Eva loves me more than she did before. That she's proud of being beside me.

"And you liked you serenade?"

"Hmm?"

Another laugh.

"Oh, you can look like a boy but it doesn't mean I can't sing to you like the beautiful woman you are, Cheyanna."

"Fuck. Off."

I get off the desk. There's no point in a conversation with a man like him – he's probably drunk already anyway. He had the wine on stage, the whiskey now. I make for the door, only to hear him calling after me.

"Go easy on her tonight. You both need to be ready to get the 8am train tomorrow – I won't be waiting around"


End file.
